One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish
by thatfilmgirl
Summary: A collection of short stories I've written while attempting to overcome writer's block. Some stories contain language and suggestive behavior, but overall, they'll all be at least PG-13.
1. Chapter One: Blood and Power

Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling. If there is something in a chapter that does not, it will be stated at the bottom of the page.

A/N: I decided to get all my cookies together and make a story out of them. This is a collection of short ficlets that will be updated when I take a break from my bigger pieces.

Enjoy!!

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Chapter One: Blood and Power

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He says that blood is everything…

Blood is power…

Blood is life….

Power… 

"It's all about –that-, isn't it?" you had asked him. He merely smiled that sardonic half grin that made your heart pound faster and your lips tremble. You shivered in places that you didn't know could shiver. You shook as he traced a pale finger across the curve of your cheek, coming to a rest at your lips. You trembled when he licked them. Moaned when he probed your mouth.

His fingers were long and thin. Pianist fingers. Those fingers that keyed notes of sweet nothings, the music happy yet dark at the same time. Innocent one minute, dripping with sex and seduction the next. Those fingers held the stopper of life and beginner of death. Those fingers bled as they held thorned blood roses and probed all your secrets.

The oracle was frightening. She had thin black snakes for hair and lips stained pomegranate. Her eyes were pure black, no separation…just liquid pools of melted black stone. Her face was pale, translucent… 

Bloodless.

All comes to blood, doesn't it?

The oracle's voice sounded like crystals tumbling across glass. She looked at both of you and smiled, showing small, blackened, pointy teeth and thin trails of blood ran down her chin.

"_Together_," her voice hissed, weaving around them like ribbons in the wind. "_You are powerful_." A forked serpents tongue escaped her mouth and licked away the blood on her chin, but more dripped down, falling to the painfully white floor, like snowflakes. "_Alone_," She hissed. "_You are dead_."

He paced listlessly around the room as you sat in the middle of the gigantic bed, clad in barely-there ash silk. Your hair, satiny claret locks, contrasted beautifully with the black, like blood soaked snow.

"It's not about blood…it's about power." He muttered angrily and pounded a fist against the wall.

"Blood screaming inside you to work its will." You whisper without thinking. He stops pacing and looks at you. Cobalt and russet locked together. Your heart beats a bit faster as he comes closer to the bed. 

Your breathing becomes a bit quicker and you look away from his gaze. His fingers cup your chin and turns your head back to look at him. Your faces are inches apart and it's killing you inside because you want him to touch you. 

Kiss you. 

Fuck you. 

You feel horrible inside, because this is the man _(boy)_ that stole you away from your home, your family. He is the one with the pale fingers that bleed when he holds your thorned roses. Those fingers belong to your psychopathic lover, who's head you can never get inside of to see what he's thinking because he's a whirl of jig saw thoughts. 

He kills, tortures, let's his maniacal laughs echo through the world, yet he makes slow, sweet love to you until your trembling and exhausted, asleep in his bed for the day until he rouses you at night with thorny red roses because he claims they remind him of you. Stunning yet unattainable. Reach out and touch, and your hands bleed. 

He doesn't know that the roses remind you of him. 

He doesn't know that you are supposed to approach him with caution, careful where you place your hands. But whenever you touch him, your hands are bloody and you don't care because he has you on a golden pedestal, out of reach from the world's fingers because you're the world to him. You brought him back and now he claims the world in your honour. 

"The oracle said that when the stars fell…" His velvety voice was quiet. "When the stars fell, you would be mine." Your eyes are shimmering with tears and your heart clenches at the devastated look on his face. He thinks that you don't want to be his when all you want is…

Him.

"Forever, Tom?" the wavering voice reaches your ears and he smiles that special smile that's only for you.

"That's the whole point."

His cool lips press against yours and his tongue slips in, duelling with yours for dominance. As his hands slide up your gown, you come to the realization that's been nagging you for two years. 

This is what you are now. 

You aren't Ginny Weasley, the girl who opened the Chamber. 

You aren't Virginia Weasley, the girl who wanted her Tom back as the world decided that the Dark Lord came back.

You're his.

And he is yours.

****

Oracle is mine.


	2. Chapter Two: Will

Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling. If there is something in a chapter that does not, it will be stated at the bottom of the page.

A/N: Chapter Two! I was originally a Tonks/Remus, but things change…

Enjoy!!

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Chapter Two: Will

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Bill winked at Fleur as he left her office. Man was he lucky. A half veela. Him! Bill Weasley was dating Fleur Delacour, Beuxbatons Champion and half-veela.  
  
Him!  
  
"Weasley!" Bill spun around to see his supervisor, Vincent Baumer, hurrying toward him with a thick file clamped in his hand. "I need you to take this to the Auror Department. Nymphadora Tonks, if you please. Tell her this is the file she was looking for." Bill took the file from him and nodded.  
  
"Sure thing, sir."  
  
Bill strode through the corridor, smiling and nodding to fellow workers who he recognized. Pressing the down button on the golden lift, and waited impatiently for the old thing to get there.  
  
"So, you goin' up or down, then?" a voice asked next to him. Bill (due to the fact that he toward over most at 6ft 3in) looked down at a pretty, blonde haired woman with dark blue eyes and a button nose.   
  
"Uh, down." The woman nodded.   
  
"You Arthur Weasley's son?" She asked, breaking the silence as they entered the empty lift. She pressed the down button and they began descending smoothly.  
  
"Uh, yeah-"   
  
But the blonde interupted. "Well, would you look! Already at my stop. Nice meetin you."   
  
Bill watched as she vanished into the crowd. Shaking his head and writing her off as an escapee from St. Mungo's, he watched the numbers light up, until he got to his destination.   
  
"Nymphodora Tonks...where are you?" He wondered to himself. He stopped a random auror. "Excuse me, could you tell me where to find Nymphodora Tonks?" The auror nodded.  
  
"Young lady sitting down over there." He said, pointing toward a back corner, where a woman with very long, dark brown hair was bustiling about at her desk. Bill thanked the auror and made his way over.  
  
"Excuse me, Miss Tonks?" He asked. The woman jumped and ended up drapping the pile of wanted leaflets she was holding. She frowned at the mess, then stuck out her hand.  
  
"Wotcher....you a Weasley?"  
  
Her blue eyes were very familiar. And that voice. He bent down to help her pick up the papers.  
  
"Have we met befo-" He started to ask. Her hair had changed colore and shrunk.   
  
He was looking into the face of the blonde on the elevator.   
  
"You're gonna catch flies with that open jaw there, mate." She laughed and scrunched her face up. Her hair was chin length and dark purple now. "No worries, you aren't goin' crazy." She took the pile of papers from Bill and put them on her desk. "Will Weasley, right?"  
  
No one had called him Will, he hated that. But it sounded nice coming from her.  
  
"Yeah." He said. She smiled and noticed the file. "Oh! This came from Vincent."   
  
"Ta." She took the folder and flipped through it quickly, then locked it in a drawer. "Its just about lunch break, could I offer you something from the caf?"  
  
"Sure."


	3. Chapter Three: Insane Psycho Redheads

Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling. If there is something in a chapter that does not, it will be stated at the bottom of the page.

A/N: Another T/G one.

Enjoy!!

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Chapter Three: Insane Psycho Redheads

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Showers pounding out a new beat_  
I trade my old shoes for new feet  
I grab a new seat  
I don't like the one I got   
The fabric's wearing through  
And it's wearing me out_  
  
The dress was very pretty. How she loved, adored, such pretty things that he gave her. He littered her lips with diamonds and her burgundy hair with sapphires and emeralds.   
  
Her hair wasn't curly any more. Curly hair belonged to the girl with china dolls, lace dresses, and invisible tea cakes. She was their little puppet, their little china doll with the invisible tears painted at the corners of her eyes.  
  
You're wearing me down  
  
"I wish I had hair like Miss Morgana's! It's ever so pretty, like liquid gold. And Miss Lenora has pretty hair too! Look at all the black ringlets."  
  
"I think your hair is perfect."  
  
"Mmmh, daddy's begging for something sweet, aren't you, dear boy?"  
  
Watching old baseball games_  
And low budget telethons  
Ain't like watching you yourself   
When you yourself is on  
Got time to wander  
to waste and to whine  
But when it comes to you,   
it seems like I just can't find the time_  
  
"He was evil." They told her with honeyed words that swamped her like syrup. She was drowning in them, completely aware of the temperature and consistency. "He's evil. He raped you. Isn't Harry such a nice boy, dearest?"  
  
Righteous, heroic, the one who has to save the day.  
  
It made her sick.  
  
But then HE came back.  
  
So watch your head and then watch the ground_  
It's a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown  
It's a silly time to learn to swim on the way down_  
  
It started simple enough. Fred and Hermione finally got their acts together and married in July. She was a bride's maid. Her dress was simple. It was pretty, but it was simple. Ankle-length silk that had a slightly ruffled hem, a matching halter top that was a little too small. They always forgot that she wasn't 10 anymore. That she had a chest.   
  
The string of the halter top that went behind her neck bit into the skin like a vampire to its victim. She remembered taking it off and seeing it bloodstained. Dark red like the ink he used to write in.  
  
It started simple enough. A long white box arrived one morning, filled with roses. But the edges were black  
  
with ink.  
  
If I gave you my number_  
Would it still be the same  
If I saved you from drowning?  
Promise me you'll never go away  
Promise me you'll always stay  
It got complicated after that._  
  
She found her goldfish strung together in an envelope on her nightstand.  
  
Her room was redecorated once. The rickety bed replaced by a big one. The white linen sheets replaced with satiny greens and blacks.  
  
She was terrified and moved back to her mother's apron, hoping that it would all go away.  
  
Closed down the last local zoo_  
I'm gonna win the endless war  
Over who kills the last koala bear  
And who in death will love him more and I_  
  
They found Ron with his neck snapped, lying on his bed one day.  
  
Well, not they....  
  
and not his bed...  
  
She remembered screaming and then silence. She remembered screaming when she found her mother.....her father....  
  
He picked them off one by one and left them for her. Sometimes he would leave messages painted with their blood.  
  
You are always mine, strega.  
  
He grabs me by the hand_  
Drags me to the shore and says:  
"Maybe you don't love me,  
But you'll grow to love me even more."_  
  
"What do you mean, cliched?" She asked tiredly, her voice was faltering and her skin was quickly becoming translucent.  
  
Red haired guardian angel.  
  
"I mean that we seem horribly common. Don't ask anymore questions." He went back to twirling her wand.   
  
"Common? I still don't understand." She was not deterred as she struggled to hold onto the last tendril of consciousness. She looked like a china doll. He towered above her weak form.  
  
"Having become prosaic or mundane through overuse; hackneyed." He gazed down at her as those big brown eyes drifted open and shut lazily. He sat down alongside her and took her pliant body in his arms. "If you were older, you would be the perfect foil for me. All your bright hair and innocence. Me, all dark haired and corrupted." She managed a weak smile through her heavy lids. "The oracle said that when the stars fell, you would be mine..."  
  
"But they didn't..." she murmured, her eyes shutting. He laid her back down on the sodden floor and something akin to contrition flashed across his visage briefly.  
  
"No, they didn't."  
  
And I well I'm not surprised  
  
Dumbledore never looked so old when they dragged Virginia Weasley into Saint Mungo's, pulling at her hair and laughing.  
  
"Look at the dollies." She stated, her head lolling around, russet eyes lost of their warmth, sanity. "Aren't they pretty dollies?"  
  
If I gave you my number_  
Would it still be the same  
If I saved you from drowning?  
Promise me you'll never go away  
Promise me you'll always stay_  
  
He bought her all the china dolls she could ever want. On her dresser, the sat in a row, primly surveying the scene. Each in Victorian lace. Some in black, some in white, some in gold. They whispered the secrets of the world to her, and she told them the secrets of her daddy.  
  
"Miss Lenora's been a bad girl," She admonished, lifting the blonde doll and turning her toward the wall. "She may not watch and she gets no cake, nor tea."  
  
Showers pounding out a new beat_  
I trade my old shoes for new feet  
I grab a new seat  
I don't like the one I got   
The fabric's wearing through  
And it's wearing me out  
You're wearing me down_  
  
He would dress her in barely there black satin and pick her up in his arms and spin around the room, her arms around his neck and her head lolled on his shoulder. He was her daddy. He was a good daddy that got rid of the people that tried to put her in that tiny little room. He was her daddy that put the people in time out when they whispered venomous things behind her back.  
  
He was her daddy.  
  
So watch your head and then watch the ground_  
It's a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown  
It's a silly time to learn to swim on the way down_  
  
The dress was very pretty. How she loved, adored, such pretty things that he gave her. He littered her lips with diamonds and her burgundy hair with sapphires and emeralds.   
Her hair wasn't curly any more. Curly hair belonged to the girl with china dolls, lace dresses, and invisible tea cakes. She was their little puppet, their little china doll with the invisible tears painted at the corners of her eyes.  
She was the china doll in the red and black lace, straight auburn hair falling down her back.   
  
She was the china doll that he broke and never completely repaired.   
  
If I gave you my number_  
Would it still be the same  
If I saved you from drowning?  
Promise me you'll never go away  
Promise me you'll always stay_


	4. Chapter Four: Where Do Babies Come From?

Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling. If there is something in a chapter that does not, it will be stated at the bottom of the page.

A/N: My main ship…:D

Enjoy!!

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Chapter Four: Where do babies come from?

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The tall grandfather clock in the kitchen of the Potter residence did not tell time. In the place of hands, 10 golden hands sat, each with a miniature picture of the family member inside. One was pointed at 'work', six were at 'school', and three were at 'home'. Suddenly, the longest 'hand' sped from 'work' to 'travelling', finally landing at 'home' the same time Harry Potter popped into the kitchen with a soft CRACK!   
  
Harry looked around the big, country style kitchen where the radio on the counter in the corner was playing Luna's Loreena McKinnet cartridge. Pasta was cooking on the stove; a wooden spoon dancing amongst the noodles and an unidentifiable (yet mouth watering) smell was wafting from the oven.  
  
No place like home. It was very quiet, as opposed to the summer. But with eight children, what could one expect?  
   
Harry took off his cloak and hung it over one of the chairs at the massive, wooden kitchen table and set his briefcase by the door. Walking over to the refrigerator, he reached in for a Butterbeer when a short little mass of curly black hair jumped up and wrapped its arms and legs around his middle. Harry smiled and lifted up the child so their faces were level.  
  
"Greetings Father." Five-year-old Amaris Potter said very seriously.  
  
"Hello Miss Moon. And how are you this fine evening?" He asked, playing along. Amaris's bright, almond shaped blue eyes glittered and she wrapped her arms around her father's neck as he grabbed his drink from the fridge.  
  
"I'm well, thank you. Ma- I mean, Mother Lunabeam says that she is making your favourite dinner." She said, using Harry's nickname for Luna. He grinned and sat the girl down on the counter, brushing her mass of corkscrew black curls out of her pixie-ish face.  
  
"And where is Mother Lunabeam tonight?" Harry asked, offering his daughter the butterbeer bottle.   
  
"Upstairs with Little Flower Baby." Amaris said, taking a sip of the drink and handing it back to her father. 'Little Flower Baby' was Harry's one-year-old red headed daughter, Lily. Complete with too-big green eyes and a habit of making everyone smile. "Da-I mean Father?"  
  
"Yes?" Harry asked, taking a swig of his drink.  
  
"Where do babies come from?"   
  
Harry choked on his drink. "There's butterbeer coming out of your nose Father." Amaris observed, handing her father a napkin. Harry took it.  
  
"Why do you want to know, Amy?"  
  
"Well," Amaris sniffed, her eyes glazing over suddenly. " I asked Jamie where I came from," She began, her voice wavering.   
  
Harry had a sinking feeling and made note to yell at his oldest when they came home for Christmas tomorrow. "A-and he said you and mama got me from a box of baby Runespoors!" She wailed, sobbing now. Harry gathered his daughter in his arms and rocked her for a few minutes while Amaris cried. "A-and," She hiccupped, rubbing her nose. "He sayed yo' widdint twell be 'cause yo' widdint wanna turt ma 'debilgate, iwwi babe poonpore fweedings." (Translation: "He said you didn't tell me because you didn't want to hurt my 'delicate, itty babyRunespoor feelings.")  
  
"Shh, Amy-baby." Harry whispered, rubbing Amaris's back. "James was the one who came from the nest of baby Runespoors. Not you. Why do you think your brother is such a git?" Amaris sniffed and laid her head on her father's shoulder, looking thoughtful.  
  
"Really?" She sniffed. Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  
  
"Yes he did. Now you-" He racked his mind for something to say. "We got you from, um-" Harry continued rocking his daughter. "Mummy and I got you from…the stork."  
  
"The stork?" Harry nodded exhuberently.  
  
"Yes dear, the stork." To him, it sounded more as if he were trying to convince himself more than her.  
  
"But then why did Mama's tummy get really big before Lily was born? Mama said that Lily came from her tummy." Harry suppressed a groan.  
  
"Well, the stork brought Mummy a special, um, medicine, Amy."  
  
"He did?"  
  
"Yes he did. So Mummy took the medicine and Lily was put in her tummy."  
  
"Oh." Harry's brow wrinkled.  
  
"What now?" Amaris sat up and rubbed her nose, which was now a bit puffy and red.  
  
"Well, I asked Siri before I asked Jamie and he said something about how I should watch a boredography." Harry's eyes widened. "Daddy, can baby's come from films too?"  
  
"No honey, they come from Mummy's and storks." Satisfied, Amaris curled up against her father.  
  
"Daddy."  
  
"Yes dear?"  
  
"I love you." Harry smiled and pecked his daughter's head.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"Yes, Amy?"  
  
"What's a boredgraphy?"

****

I own the Potter kids. Yes all eight of them


	5. Chapter Five: All Okay part One

Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling. If there is something in a chapter that does not, it will be stated at the bottom of the page.

A/N: Another, much darker H/Ln.

Enjoy!!

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Chapter Five: All Okay, pt 1

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_if i could tell the world just one thing it would be that we're all okay_  
  
The air was stale, recycled tasting. Bitter, metallic, dusty.  
  
(vampire)  
  
Nothing more than ashes and hate, dust and anger.  
  
Dizzy, dizzy, little boy, so dizzy.  
  
_and not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these_  
  
Little boys who have to carry the world on their shoulders. Little orphaned boys.  
  
Orhpaned boys with their mother's eyes and their father's pride.   
  
_i won't be made useless i won't be idle with despair i will gather myself around my faith for light does the darkness most fear_  
  
They looked at him, at his green eyes and wild black hair. They looked at the shaking boy.  
  
His hands were shaking like mad, his teeth chattering from an invisible cold. His skin was icy, clammy, fake feeling. Rubbery.  
  
(rubber gloves because the lye in the water stings and burns)  
  
His mother's eyes behind father's glasses roamed over the people watching him, afraid to come near, as if they stepped, he would shatter into a million peices and float away like the dust of the Lord.  
  
(I love him! [red hair with bangles and beads] I hate you! How could you!)  
  
_my hands are small i know but they're not yours they are my own but they're not yours they are my own  
  
and i am never broken_  
  
His knees were shaking and he was breathing hard through a clenched jaw as tiny pads of tiny fingers gently guided him down to the floor. Gently guided his head with tiny hands into soft lap.  
  
Cocunut and vanilla wafted from the tiny clothes on the tiny body as tiny hands gently ran fingers through his untidy hair, softly humming a tiny tune from somewhere far away.  
  
(and i lay my head back down...you're my only hope)  
  
_poverty stole your golden shoes it didn't steal your laughter_  
  
"She hates me know."   
  
It wasn't even his voice. He never felt his lips move. His voice wasn't scrathy or hoarse. Wasn't squeeky high or clogged with emotion.  
  
"Why do you say that?"   
  
Dreamy and bewitching. Her voice. Aware yet not.  
  
(Don't worry, you're just as sane as I am)  
  
"She loved him and I killed him. I killed her lover and she hates me."  
  
_and heartache came to visit me but I knew it wasn't ever after we'll fight, not out of spite for someone must stand up for what's right_  
  
"No she doesn't. I can't hate you. She can't hate you."  
  
Dead inside. Insides frozen.  
  
(spread eagled on the ground. Cedric's dead)  
  
"He didn't look like a snake anymore. He looked like second year. He looked like a boy."  
  
(boys with mother's eyes and boys with frozen bodies)  
  
"You're just a boy, luv." She whispered, tiny fingers curled on his chest.  
  
"You're just a moon angel. Lunabeam."  
  
_'Cause where there's a man who has no voice there ours shall go singing my hands are small i know but they're not yours they are my own but they're not yours they are my own i am never broken_  
  
He turned in her cocunut aura and looked up into silvery blue.   
  
(not ice like crimson curled girls loved about their dark lovers)  
  
"I love you."   
  
_i will get down on my knees and i will pray i will get down on my knees and i will pray i will get down on my knees and i will pray_  
  
He blinked and covored the tiny hand on his chest with his small one.  
  
"I love you." He whispered. "I love you Luna."  
  
"I love you Harry."  
  
And it was all okay.  
  
She traced his forehead with her tiny finger and cocked her head.  
  
_If I could tell the world just one thing it would be that you're all okay_  
  
"No more scar."

*****

The song is called 'Hands' and its by Jewel.


	6. Chapter Six: All Okay part Two

Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling. If there is something in a chapter that does not, it will be stated at the bottom of the page.

A/N: Second part of the previous chapter. T/G.

Enjoy!!

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Chapter Six: All Okay, pt 2

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_my hands are small i know but they're not yours they are my own but they're not yours they are my own and I am never broken_  
  
Dancing dancing. Spinning and twirling. Ballerina covored in limp black lace and rose colored nipples playing peek-a-boo with said black lace.  
  
(I always loved the ballerinas. Thin and wispy, lover.)  
  
_poverty stole your golden shoes it didn't steal your laughter_  
  
He sat in the large leather chair behind an even larger mahogany desk. Shiny black dress shoes propped on the table, connected to crossed legs in gray trousers. Crisp white shirt now wrinkled, top buttons undone.  
  
Black hair uncombed, hanging infront of ice.   
  
Pale fingers holding a book. Ice reading little ink dots that formed words and marched across the page.  
  
_if I could tell the world just one thing it would be that you're okay and not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these_  
  
She thought he was reading, but he hadn't turned the page in twenty minutes. Hooded ice watched over the book at his most prized doll.  
  
Crimson curls were long. On each side of her pretty china head, lockes of hair were braided and pulled back with green ribbons and silver stones.   
  
(They're beautiful. You are my love)  
  
Curls bounced like her creamy breasts as she jumped and twirled. An enticing doll; innocent yet deadly, virginal, yet fucked constantly.   
  
_we are never broken we are gods eyes gods hands gods mind_  
  
"Tom?"  
  
She stood on his side of the desk, arms hanging at her sides. Her head was cocked, plump lips painted black slightly parted where a sweet pink tounge was held. "What are you doing?"  
  
He brought his legs down from the desk and tossed the book onto the surface insted. Pianist fingers held the tiny wrists of his doll delicatley and tugged her over so she stood between his legs and he looked up at her.  
  
"Watching you." He whispered lamely. She bit her lip and a blush creeped up her neck. Surprising that he knew every place to make her scream his name in ecstasy and yet him watching her was embarissing.  
  
_we are Gods eyes gods hands gods heart_  
  
He backed her up slightly and stood up. He towered over her, the top of her head reaching halfway up his chin. Holding a wrist with his left hand, his right snaked behind her neck and he brought his head down and kissed her with as much passion as he could muster.  
  
Tongues dueled and he pressed his kiss harder, tilting her head back as his hands gripped her waist and hefted her onto the desk.  
  
She whispered his name as he rid her of the black lace and she pushed off his shirt.  
  
She moaned when he entered her and after they reached, he lay next to her, arms wrapped around her, her head nestled under his chin.  
  
_We are never broken_

_***_

_Again, the song is 'Hands' by Jewel. One word was changed in the song. Cookies if you know which one it is._


	7. Chapter Seven: TheBoyWhoLived Vs Nemo: C...

**Disclaimer: All belongs to J.K. Rowling. If there is something in a chapter that does not, it will be stated at the bottom of the page.**

**A/N: Inspired by a Buffy/Angel humour fic I read.**

**Enjoy!**

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**The-Boy-Who-Lived Vs. Nemo: Cocker Spaniel Wonder!**

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With an annoyed growl, Harry rolled off of Luna and onto his side of the bed and stared at the ceiling. His handsome face was set into a scowl, his untidy hair falling into emerald eyes. Luna propped herself on her elbows and stared at him.

A lazy, very _nice _weekend morning had been going well until up to now.

"I can't do this with that _thing_ watching." Grumbled Harry, arms folded behind his head. Luna raised an eyebrow and ran her fingers over his toned chest. "I can't!" He said again.

Luna looked over the side of the bed at Nemo, who sat staring at Her Most Beloved Mistress With Sunlit hair and The Vile and Scarred Creature. The black and grey Cocker Spaniel blinked and licked her chops before continuing to pant happily. Luna turned back to her husband.

"The Boy-Who-Lived can't perform in front of a dog?" She laughed. Harry scowled further. "You've played Quidditch in the buff, dearest."

"That was different!" Harry squeaked. 

"How?"

"It was my bachelor party and we were all drunk!"

Sighing, Luna turned back to the dog. 

"Go find your squeaky bludger, Nemo!"

Nemo turned two circles before easing herself luxuriously onto the carpet, preparing for a lengthy stay. She knew exactly where her squeaky bludger was. She his bludger from The Vile and Scarred Creature. The Vile Creature liked to steal bludger and throw bludger into strange places like the street in front of the house where the Giant Metal Rodents of Doom zoomed 

Once The Vile and Scarred Creature threw bludger out in the rain. When she went out for the rescue mission, The Vile Creature locked her outside. She retaliated sensibly by peeing in The Vile Creature's shoes.

"The damn dog hates me!"

"You're being silly, darling. Dogs love people!"

Nemo despised The Vile Creature. He would tackle Her Most Beloved Mistress with Sunlit hair and rub against her until Her Most Beloved Mistress screamed. Nemo didn't understand why Her Most Beloved Queen didn't take The Vile and Scarred Creature to the Place of Pain like The Vile Creature did to The Shrouded and Tattooed Reaper. The Tattooed Reaper tried to rub against Most Beloved Mistress and pushed her down the steps and The Vile Creature took The Shrouded and Tattooed Reaper to the Place of Pain. But then why did The Vile Creature rub against Her Most Beloved Mistress?

Luna peppered tiny kisses around Harry's jaw as her hand snaked down to the hem of the sheet. Harry grabbed her wrist. "Not with that animal in here." He muttered.

Luna sighed and climbed out of bed and scooped up Nemo. The dog happily licked Her Most Beloved Mistress's face. They were leaving The Vile and Scarred Creature! Triumph!

Though Nemo did find it a bit weird that Her Most Beloved Mistress had no clothes.

Luna pulled open the bedroom door with a creak and set Nemo in the hallway and closed the door.

Nemo whimpered and pawed at the door. Defeat was unacceptable!

The Vile and Scarred Creature kept his precious Overly Large Wooden Stick in the closet by the door. 

Sometimes they forgot to close the door.

****

Harry skipped down the steps an hour later, showered, dressed, and ready to help his oldest sons work on their Quidditch tactics. He reached the closet and found a few wooden chips on the ground.

It took a minute to process as Harry flung open the door and looked at the chewed up Firebolt.

The roar of pain and fury could be heard for miles. 

A/N: I own Nemo


	8. Chapter Eight: The Other Flower

_Maybe I don't like her much after all,_ he thought as he kissed the girl in his arms. His strong arms wrapped around her slight frame as he pulled away and she sighed, laying her little head on his shoulder. "You're still not as pretty as me."  
  
She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see it. "You're right. I'm hotter than you."  
  
"Are not."  
  
"Oh, is the Gryffindor Chaser insulted that not everyone bows down to him?"  
  
"Of course not. I'm not that arrogant."  
  
"Lily thinks you are."  
  
"Well Lily isn't the one I'm kissing."  
  
Sighing, she curled up against him. "I love you James."  
  
"I love you, Cissa."  
  
A/N: Yes, James/Narcissa. Because its forbiddenandpretty 


End file.
